Regret
by diva.gonzo
Summary: It's time for Tom M Riddle to disappear. He has learned where two Founder's relics are - in possession by Hephzibah Smith - and has clues to the third one. But he has a nefarious task to accomplish before he disappears. Tom has murder most foul on his mind. Rated M for Dark!Fic material and warnings contained within.


_This is written for the second week of Olllivander's Challenge – prompt: Making of a Horcrux._

**A/N:** **Rated M+ for Dark!Fic materials.** This fic contains many things that are REALLY not appropriate for those 18 and under. (Heck, I'd say 21 and up, personally!) It contains murder most foul and darkest magic, since this fic deals with Horcrux creation.

_**Trigger warnings as follows: Character death, blood, and slash. Cavet emptor.  
**_

I cannot stress enough that this is **WAY** outside my comfort zone but after recent news reports, I was compelled to take the story in that direction. So, suffice to say, the story is under a Read-More demarcation line, and I would hope that the kids 16 and under skip it for now. Even I wanted Lysol and a caustic bath after writing this. O_O

* * *

**OooOooO**

Tom Riddle stood in front of Hephzibah Smith's door, smiling. He adjusted his cloak and robes to conceal the two items he nicked from the vain woman inside the residence. He walked quickly to the apparition point. He had a trip abroad to take. There was another Founder's relic he coveted.

In a few minutes, she would be telling her elf to make her some tea from the dark canister in her cabinet. The tea was a gift, one he procured from the illegal trafficked stores of his employer, Borgin and Burkes. Today, that special tea would come in handy. A complex memory charm, one he picked up from a dusty tome in the back storeroom was sufficient. Charming the foolish witch was the easy task: _Imperio_ her to command her elf to make her some tea from the cabinet. It was a special tea, one he planted in her cabinet that the elf would make just for her. It would be ironic, that her love of tea, with milk and sugar, would mask the poison contained on those loose leaves. The witch's elf would do as she bade and the elf would be implicated in her death.

Once again, he would get away with murder.

By the time the Aurors came to investigate, he would be out of the country and making his way East, taking yet another step in becoming the Lord he chose to be. It would be later, if she had any family, that they would only realize then what was truly missing from her hoard of treasures.

Tom spun in place and landed across the channel at the apparition point in Dunkirk. Tom took to the walking path, chewing up the meters he had to walk to make it to the meeting place. There was a certain blond that demanded his attention before disappearing for the next few years. Cassius Caradoc Selwyn was meeting him a patisserie in Dunkirk, on Rue Victor Hugo, before embarking on their travels together.

At least that's what Tom let the younger man, two years his junior, think from his innuendo.

Tom was introduced on a trip to the Selwyn residence, in Cambridgeshire. The blond young man immediately caught his eye. Tom had been most charming to young Cary, gaining his trust quickly before seducing him with thoughts of power and ambition. He knew about the younger man from his associations. They were quite candid that the ponce was a sucker for someone who offered him a way to satiate his appetites, including lust and power. So Tom laid on the charms, gaining his trust immediately while Mr. Burke negotiated with the master of the manor. Young Cary came calling at work the next day and they hit it off splendidly. After then, including a quiet evening in a room in Hogsmeade, Tom put him to use digging out arcane bits of knowledge while Tom chatted up the masters of the manor. Each of the pureblood families was more than helpful, opening their dusty libraries to the young men in search of knowledge. He could have been a Ravenclaw with his thirst for knowledge. Nothing was too dark, twisted, or revolting for the young man.

Knowledge was power and power was what Cary Selwyn craved. But that didn't compare to his vicious streak for those who crossed him, or his lust for power and ambition. For now, having Tom Riddle as his companion was enough. The sex was nothing but a bonus.

Tom gained distilled knowledge and time. For the time being, he would allow the young man to learn alongside him. Both craved the darkest magic, learning together. He could cope with the demands of physical pleasure as long as they continued their mutual quest for dark magic.

At night they would lay in bed when their thirst for knowledge was quenched for the day. Cary's appetite for Tom was unrivaled. A leg over and then they would discuss what Cary found in yet another tome in another residence with another family who was only too happy to help the young ambitious men.

But some things weren't for Cary to know, much less share. Tom held dark secrets: the naïve Slytherin had outlived his usefulness the day he introduced Tom to his father, Octavian Selwyn. During the evening of a drunken debauchery known as a Selwyn party, Octavian mentioned a book in passing, which he possessed in his personal library, on the making of a Horcrux. Of course he also said that the book was banned knowledge in the Wizarding world for the depths of Dark magic contained on the leather bound parchment papers.

The casual mention of that particular bit of magic made Cary obsolete, save physically; a willing partner but wholly unequal when it came to magical ambition. Sure, Tom had made two Horcrux already, but those were accidental, stumbling along like an addled schoolboy.

Tom walked quickly along the chewed up cobblestones of the town, looking for _La Maison de Pierre. _There was a Muggle war a few years prior, not that it interested Tom Marvolo Riddle in the least. The destruction that the Muggles could inflict upon one another was reasonably impressive, but was nothing in comparison to what he had in mind once his plans were established and set into motion. Cary was meeting him at the outdoor cafe at half three for a spot of tea before participating in the Horcrux making ceremony.

* * *

**OooOooO**

His demise was required when Octavian let slip that he had the required reading they were searching for, in his private library.

At least that was what Tom planned.

Cary had no idea what this afternoon was in store for him. Immortality was awaiting Tom Riddle and no one was going to stand in his way.

And there sat young Cary, looking splendid in his currently fashionable robes and high collar. His polychromatic eyes, which turned from green to blue depending on his mood and attire, caught his eye a year ago. His blond hair was a very nice addition as well, soft and tempting when he ran his fingers through it during moments of raw passion.

He was truly beautiful.

* * *

**OooOooO**

Of course that didn't stop Tom from quietly speaking with Octavian later that night, once Cary was satiated with elf-made brandy and sexual pleasures. Octavian, true to his Roman namesakes, demanded sexual favors as payment for opening his personal library to the young man. The price of the darkest magic contained in the Selwyn residence was mortifying. But for the quest of making real Horcrux, he would endure anything.

The temporary pain of mortification to gain access to the book and expansive knowledge of the Selwyn library was worth it.

At least that's how he let Octavian think that way.

Their deal was sealed in kisses and blood. That would prove to be useful much later.

Tom was led to Octavian's private library. He would have eventually found it, stashed behind two secret entrances to a floor that supposedly didn't exist from the outside of the house. In that small room, no bigger than a bedroom, were hundreds of tomes, full of knowledge worthy of a Lord. From that evening onward, Tom stayed with the Selwyns for another two weeks, with Cary in his bed, while he explored their private library and the knowledge in those dark, dusty tomes.

Octavian only asked for payment once more. The second time, Tom was more amenable, since he found the actual process in that particular book.

Knowledge was worth that payment.

What Octavian didn't know was that Tom would demand payment as well, in blood, once he was finished with the Selwyn men. Too bad that young Cary never bothered to read up about the name Octavian, for Tom was going to act that way towards the elder Selwyn.

His older brother Claudius was suspicious, much like Dumbledore years prior, but Tom held both of the other men in their thrawl. His whispered words of poison in their bed one late evening were enough to start the illusions.

Cary bought into the lie that he would be the one to commit murder most foul upon returning from Dunkirk. As the second son, he lusted after the family name, the estates, and craved the power and standing that, as Master of the Manor, would be afforded to him. Once he was free of Tom, he would take his rightful place in Wizarding society. His much younger brother, Marcus, would be raised better than he was.

_Ah, the illusions and naivety of youth, _Tom thought wistfully as he turned the corner for the patisserie.

* * *

**OooOooO**

"Ah, Tom, there you are. I thought you got lost coming from London."

Tom smiled. He would regret what was necessary this evening, but not before enjoying another afternoon of pleasant company.

"Hardly. Your directions were perfect. Have you ordered for me?"

"Certainly, old boy: _Café au lait_ _et deux croissant __avec du beurre et__ crème__."_

Tom sat down across from his partner. He didn't love the boy. But he did enjoy their mutual pleasures of lust and ambition. Too bad he couldn't take the sod with him. Where he was going, no one else could follow. Tom Riddle needed to perish so Lord Voldemort could rise from those pathetic Muggle ashes. The demise of his Muggle side would be a worthy sacrifice on his walk to further immortality.

Tom tucked into his _café_ and took a bite of his fresh croissant. He slathered on the butter before taking another bite of the warm pastry.

"You're quiet. What's twisting your bits?"

Tom looked up at those pretty eyes. "I was just thinking that you are too handsome for sitting in a café. Another suitor might come along and dangle you on his knee like a wretched rent boy. I'd rather retire to our rooms shortly. This croissant isn't what I am hungry for."

"Already? 'Tis early in the day for a leg over but I am more than wiling." Cary waved his hand and handed a few francs to the waitress before departing. "Come then, Tom. Let's retire for the afternoon for some pleasure."

* * *

**OooOooO**

Clothes flew from their fit bodies in a moment of pure lust. Lips, tongues, arms, and legs writhed along one another before they fell into the smaller bed. Cary shifted on the double bed and put his head on the pillows, eagerly awaiting his lover's embrace. He felt magic crawl over his flesh and make the impending coupling more pleasant.

Cries of pleasure echoed through the room while slaps of flesh gave cacophony in their small rented room. Hands groped along the younger man's body while Cary fisted the wrinkled bedclothes.

"Quit playing around, Tom. You know what I need."

Tom smiled. _Yes, I know what you need. I know what I need more. _Tom moved his hand from Cary's lower anatomy to the young man's throat. He reached his other hand to the wand lying on the side table. He grabbed the wand and silently cast _incarcerous_ on the young man. Ropes flew fast as thought, magically securing the young man into a spread position.

"Tom, what's going on?"

"I'm feeling shirty. I know you don't mind."

"You could have asked, you bugger," Cary muttered from the pillow before putting his head back down.

Tom flicked his wand again and silenced the young man. Cary writhed under the taller and thinner man.

Tom leaned in close, almost smothering the younger man into the bedclothes. "I regret what is about to happen. But your father demanded payment for knowledge which should have been freely given. I was entitled to that information but instead, he humiliated me, making me his bottom and demanding favors not of my free will. You can curse him as your dying breath for what is going to happen. Had he given me access, I would not destroy him by killing you. His death would be for my immortality, not yours. Your death, as much as I will regret it, will help me live forever."

Cary writhed more under Tom's continued ministrations.

"Hush, sweet boy. There's no need to struggle," Tom crooned behind Cary's back. "Unlike your father, I will be merciful. Before I went to the Smith residence, I was at the Manor with your parents, along with your brother. He begged me on his hands and knees to kill him. Unlike you, I made him beg for hours. I made him watch when I broke his wife before killing her. I made him watch while I tormented your older brother. Yes, dear Cary, he's dead too. Claudius is dead, too. The only one, save your father, I left alive was your cousin Dolores. She was too pathetic to kill out of spite. Your tragic death… well, he might even put a wand to his own head."

Cary struggled under the magical ropes binding him to the bed.

"It's a pity I won't be returning to London for a long time after this. I'd love to see his face when he finds out his family has been wiped out. But he was no use to me after he demanded payment when it should have been given freely, after I explained my goal and ambition to achieve it."

Cary struggled under Tom while he worked up to the precipice. With wand in hand, he performed the incantation on himself, screaming in pain and pleasure. Swirls of magic coalesced around the young men.

"I regret this," Tom hissed in Cary's ear. The young man looked in pure terror.

Tom silently called the gold chalice to his hand. It floated in front of his face while he pointed the wand at the young man's throat. A cutting curse went through his thoughts and blood was spilled. Cary twitched once before falling limp.

Tom stood up from the bed and performed the second incantation. The necessary components were pulled from the bed and swirled above the chalice floating above the bed. A third incantation was uttered before Tom sliced his arm. Drops of blood were pulled into the swirl above the cup. A last charm was uttered and the life force was pulled from his body and the donated life of Cary Selwyn. It slammed into the cup and rattled.

The cup fell onto the floor, hitting with a thud.

Tom breathed heavily. Upon the bed was a husk of a beautiful young man. "Where I am going, you couldn't follow. Lords have no equal."


End file.
